Bio:

As a young boy Azrayael was very wealthy, he had everything a young aspiring child would need to continue the Legacy of his family: the Lords of Mistmantle in the country of Darkshire (Ironically named for being the sunniest side of the Kingdom of Wrynn.) Azrayael was not satisfied with such a “set” life and often would sneak out of the village with other teenagers to pull pranks or get into other mischief.

One day they came across a hermit’s house, the teenagers decided it would be funny to leave muddy foot prints all over the hermits roof. The six of them climbed on top of the hut and began stomping their feet on the roof. Without warning (or perhaps Azrayael’s incredible luck of rolling a “1”, 5% chance) the hut gave in collapsing in-ward. There was a short but quickly silenced scream. Amongst the dust and the sharp shards of wood, a crimson liquid began to ooze out from where the rubble lay. Someone had been inside the hut.

The young bride of the hermit. Terrified they panicked and were about to run back to the village when they turned around to see a strange robbed man, it was Ambercrombie the hermit. Ambercrombie was about 20 yards away and in the “blink” of an eye was at the rubble and began throwing the broken pieces aside in a very fast and almost wind-like movement much quicker than five men could have moved the rubble and shards of wood. Upon seeing his poor wife he turned and took out a snowy white orb, and grabbed a sharp edge of the splintered wood. He drew a shallow cut from between his thumb and trigger finger to the opposite end of his hand, as the blood started to fall from his hand he moved the snowy white orb underneath it and it suddenly became as dark as his blood. Ambercrombie muttered slowly waving his hands in a circular motion and keeping eye contact with the party. He placed a terrrrrrrrrible curse upon the teenagers, they began to slowly transform into terrifying beasts. Azrayael being unaffected by the curse, ran back to the town as fast as he could.

A few days past and Azrayael did not see his friends return to town. Two cliques south of town resided a small elven community their village was known as “The Tranquil Gardens”. The elves who lived their had lived in peace with Darkshire for many years. Azrayel headed south to ask if they had seen his friends.

When he got there he witnessed something terrible; the villagers had all been massacred, everywhere he looked he saw them lying in the streets and a dark shadow had crept over the horizon. The once very plentiful orchard was now rotting and the ground itself seemed blighted.

The elves had always had protective magical wards around their village, these usually lay motionless, covered in moss and other vegetation. Today was quite a different story, the wards had a slight glow to them and had uprooted some of the weeds and broken the ground around them and were held up 2 feet above the ground, as if by magic. The once silenced bodies of the poor elves began to stir as if somehow awoken. The citizens never quite understood what the wards would do if the town had ever been attacked, and if they had they would have surely made the Keeper (Elder: Leader like figure of the elves) dispel them. The bodies began to get up and dredge toward Azrayel. Alarmed but still brave he drew his holy symbol and recited a prayer, as if somehow blinded by seeing the sun for the first time the bodies moved quickly in the opposite direction. Relieved and a bit shocked he ran back to town and confessed the entire situation to Commander Althea Ebonlocke, Leader of the Nightwatch. (Group of over-payed under-worked keepers of the peace).

When he had completed his story the forest itself seemed to have changed during that time, it was now unrealistically overgrown and cast a very dark shadow over the entire country. Guess the prophecy of Darkshire had finally come to pass (It was now dark).

Captain of the Nightwatch told Azrayel only those who’s soul is brave, heart is true (Even though he is kind of a klutz he never means for these bad things to happen to those around him), and courage is sound can with stand the werewolf curse and drive back the undead. A Paladin, defender of the weak, protector of the innocent, smiter of evil! Legends had told of such defenders, wielding weapons that strike like thunder, mounts that are not just for riding but are companions, somehow imbued, more intelligent and stronger than normal wild animals.

Azrayel vowed to slay the undead scourge that now plagued his beloved homeland and to find a way to cure his entourage. Azrayel set off the very same day to the “Temple of Light” to become a brother of the “Archaic Dawn”. He knew it would be a long and hard earned task, but he knew he must be brave, he knew “Darkshire” would need someone to return one day and bring the “New Dawn”.

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One does not simply walk-in to the order, one must prove himself, survive trials and be tested by a “Silver-Hand”. After two years of dedicated practice, discipline and stubbornness, they finally accept Azrayael for training.

5 years in the order, prayers, and “good deeds” pass before Azrayael knows his training is coming to an end. The head of the order feels Azrayael is finally ready and tells him of a small town called “Beckna” who are in need of the order. He gives him a few days trail rations, a waterskin, a longsword, and a decree of passage to board a ship to “Beckna”.

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Azrayael finally gets his chance to save a “Damsel in Distress”, his obsession over fixing the right he once wronged. The young bride so many years ago, it plays in his head nearly every night. His rescue turns to anguish as he clumsily misses her sacrificial chains and lops off her foot while trying to save her from her shackles. As he goes to heal her the creature returns from behind to claim them both.

Battling the tentacle creature of evil he eventually is beaten into submission and falls unconscious to awaken to being saved “again” by his companions. His first thoughts are of the young girl, he rushes to the alter of sacrifice to find her limp body unable be healed, and though he tries again and again even the light that answers his prayers cannot tend her wounds. He has failed again, he has deepened his sorrow.

She surely would have perished had they not come along, but he should not have fallen, he blames himself, he picks up her foot, and carries her lifeless body out of the undercity. He will give her a proper burial, he will find whatever family she had and deliver the news, he will find a way to earn their forgiveness. He will find salvation from the new torment of his life-like nightmare! A man who fears no enemy, who fears not death, fears he will not be able to ever right the wrongs he has seen. He thinks briefly about his homeland and if he will ever be able to return and purge the undead presence and cure his friends who he lost so long ago to the terrible curse of Lycanthropy.